Natalie shut her eyes. As her mother had predicted, the poet hadn’t lasted long, but she had kept the hoops. When Shelly finished her primping, Natalie couldn’t help grinning at the image in the mirror. “Wow, you’re good,” she said.

“I’m just gilding the lily here,” said Shelly. “Let’s go downstairs. They’re probably ready for you.”

The camera crew had arranged a cozy seating area in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelves. The dramatic lighting highlighted the rolling library ladder and fretwork on the antique oak. Even Sylvia the cat made an appearance, padding around and sniffing things.

“My heart just skipped a beat,” Trevor said when Natalie stepped into the light. “I mean, you’re always gorgeous, but—”

There was a knock at the door. She looked over and saw Peach. What was he doing here after hours? She hurried to let him in. “Hey,” she said. “Come on in.”

“Forgot my stud finder,” he said.

She stepped aside. “Find away. We’re doing a spot for the book signing this weekend.”

He gave her a long look, his gaze warm as he took in her fancy hair and makeup. “Yeah?” he said. “You look—”

“Hey, man, good to see you again.” Trevor Dashwood stuck out his hand.

Peach shook it. “My daughter is looking forward to your book signing.”

“Can’t wait to meet her. Dorothy, right?”

The tension between the two guys was palpable. Natalie couldn’t see it, but she sensed it, two bucks circling, about to lock horns. Then Peach took a step back. “Okay, then. I’ll just grab my stuff and be out of your way. Good luck with your …” He gestured at the lighted seating area. “See you around.”

Everyone said the article and companion webcast came out great. Natalie took their word for it because she was too bashful to actually watch herself on video. Besides, there was no time. The day of the event was a whirlwind as she shuttled between the shop and the auditorium, attending to last-minute details. She was a ball of nervous excitement.

The one dim spot was that her grandfather was feeling ill—again—and he was going to miss the festivities. The doctors still couldn’t figure out why he kept losing weight and had trouble breathing.

As the hour approached, Natalie worked with Bertie and Cleo, setting up the cash register in the vestibule. They could see people gathering outside. It was a rare, glorious afternoon, the sun turning everything a rich golden hue. “It’s happening,” she said. “I feel as though I’m in a dream.”

“And I hear you’ve got a date with Mr. Darcy afterward,” said Cleo. “Rendez-Vous?” She fanned herself.

“It’s not … I don’t know what it is,” Natalie said. “I barely know the guy.”

“That’s why it’s a date,” Cleo said. “So you can get to know him.”

“Just be safe,” Bertie said. “Promise.”